


Unpredictable Together

by MadameMorganLeFay



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMorganLeFay/pseuds/MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian realizes that his oddball relationship with Justin doesn't quite have to end in tears, after all. Set in New York City. One-Shot. Post 5 x 13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpredictable Together

_It’s not supposed to rain after you finish fucking…_

But then, Brian reasoned, God probably wept, seeing two red-blooded fags sinning in a cramped apartment. Or should he call it a shack?

He craned his neck to peer outside, but the rain fell faster now, obscuring the drab reds and greys of neighbouring blocks. To be honest, that only improved things because whoever built these tenements had all the artistic imagination of a plank; clearly incentives for cheap housing didn’t include an Architecture degree. How could anyone even _breathe_ in one of these holes, let alone function? The bed felt lumpy, the walls were a nasty off-white colour and everywhere he looked, he saw spiders.

In fact, just then, a particularly fat one slithered outside. _Probably looking for a bigger apartment!_ Christ, he missed his beloved Loft! No creepy crawlies there! Like all civilised folk, he hired a cleaning lady twice a week that spared him the indignity of playing naked maid, all his white goods worked and there was _space_! Plenty of it! Space on the walls, around rugs and kitchen appliances. Space to think, walk and fuck…

Why didn’t Justin buy somewhere like that?

Well… learning that New York bled ordinary people’s bank accounts to death was a culture shock because _he_ never worried about his bills. Justin on the other hand… He twisted to grin lopsidedly at his lover- now, _he_ did nothing but moan about the rent and _“still waiting tables, for Christ’s sake…!”_ Apparently the tips at Luigi’s sucked ass- but again, he wouldn’t know.  

Sighing, he sank back onto the bed, waiting for his racing heart to slow. He burned, ached, and sweat all over, but despite his misgivings, they’d enjoyed a few hours in bed whilst New York awoke to a sluggish Monday morning. Justin’s ass probably ached… and so did his. They’d exchanged a couple of blow jobs here and there for good measure. The downstairs neighbours had banged on their ceiling at several crucial points to no avail. No doubt they’d file a complaint with the cops come Tuesday, but he’d be gone by then…  

Beside him, Justin whistled under his breath. “Well… safe to say that was fun!”

“ _A_ -mazing,” he murmured, leaning over for a kiss. “Your neighbours were pretty thrilled, too!”

“Oh- Kathy plays jazz until two in the morning, so I don’t see what her problem is. And her sexual appetite is pretty healthy too: the guy she fucked last week howled like a wolf when he came! I had nightmares all day afterwards!”

Brian issued something halfway between a chuckle and a snort. “I’m sure it was very traumatic for you…”

“Oh yes, snicker away; it’s alright for you, and your air-conditioned world, far removed from the rest of us peasants--”

“Spare me the lecture, Karl Marx--”

“—with your overpriced latte’s, accountants who help you cheat on your taxes--”

Brian snuffed out the rest with a lingering kiss.

“Am I talking too much?” Justin whispered, licking his lips.

“You _always_ talk too much,” Brian replied, “I just tolerate it for the general good.”

“The long-suffering Brian Kinney- now _that’s_ new! Your knack for utter bullshit never ceases to amaze me--”

“--It was a _joke_.”

“Talking too much again?”

“Take a wild guess, Einstein.” He tangled his fingers in Justin’s hair, watching the silk threads tumble from his fingers like feathers on a breeze. It reminded him that he needed to catch a plane tomorrow morning, headed back to Pittsburgh’s suffocating embrace. He’d leave without any promises and then pretend he’d never heard the name Justin Taylor in his life- at least until the next email came promising sex, tuna pasta and crap TV. And always, he wondered about the day when the emails would stop altogether, a new man entered Justin’s life and he dropped into obscurity…

 _Shit_. No, he couldn’t go there- not now.

“Brian?”

He came to, shaking his doubts away. “Yeah, what?”

“You okay?”

“Brilliant. Dazzling.”

“So dazzling… and wearing that frown which means you’re overthinking something… like wondering when we’ll do this again?”

 _Damn his Kintellect! (1)_ Not trusting himself to answer, he carried on examining each strand of hair as though he hadn’t heard.

“And, as usual, you pretend you don’t _feel_ ,” Justin added, resigned, “and that everything will just go back to normal, without you hurting one little bit. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“If you’re so sure of yourself, why ask me, Dr Freud?”

His stomach growled to provide a distraction from the sudden awkwardness- was there a chocolate bar lying around somewhere? Why not? Justin’s love for high sugar carbs defied description and man cannot live on pasta alone… He wanted them to eat out somewhere, but Justin had banned him outright from paying for any more luxuries on his behalf, so every time he flew over, he suffered the bland contents of various tins stirred in with pasta. Now, Justin’s cooking never poisoned anyone, but there was only so much you could do with fusilli and _“responsibly sourced tuna”._

“I see what you’re saying between the lines. I… I love you too, Brian.”

Woah. _That came from nowhere!_ Did he miss something? Frowning, he cautiously met Justin’s eyes for an explanation. Warmth rippled across his chest- a warmth he didn’t dare call by name, fearing he’d imagined those magic words. Because… who in their right mind would say the _“L”_ word to _him_?! He’d a list of enemies as long as your arm; from waiters to clergymen to CEO’s. Brian Kinney had spent the better part of his life stepping on people’s toes, and unless he suddenly begged for forgiveness, he’d pay one of these days.

So why the fuck did Justin feel so comfortable revealing himself in that way? Sympathy? Feeling defensive, he opted for an arrogant response.  

“Of _course_ you do!” His sarcasm seeped through and dripped onto the sheets, so to make amends, he added, “By the way, you got a chocolate bar anywhere?”

Justin heaved a sigh, then held it in suspense, wondering how to react. He’d provoked this reaction countless times through the years; it still kept him on tenterhooks, waiting to see whether Justin let it fly, or finally lost his temper. Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. But he never complained regardless; push a man too far and he snaps. _Everything that happens afterwards is only of your own making, no matter how much it hurts, how much you regret it._

A few, cold memories came to mind…

“Sure; you’ll find a Galaxy on the windowsill, a Mars Bar on my couch and several Snickers in the fridge- of course I _haven’t_ fucking got a chocolate bar! You know I go get groceries on a Tuesday!”

Justin never raised his voice once, and Brian wished he’d stuck to his _“don’t answer awkward questions”_ rule. “Ah, okay. Right. I’ll, uh, buy one on the way back.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say- all the usual _“How was your day”_ options seemed inappropriate- so he stared at the ceiling as though it held the key to life’s problems. _Are those cracks? Certainly don’t inspire confidence. The whole damn thing could come down on Sunshine’s head whilst he sleeps- and he hasn’t got any life insurance. Fucking state governments and their cheap housing…_

A bored Brian Kinney was a philosophical Brian Kinney, his thoughts sailing off into the ocean whilst he lay trapped in the here and now.

“I hate it when you do that, you know?”

_Two minutes and thirty seconds precisely before Justin speaks again. By his standards, a world record._

With a sigh, he decided to answer. “What, Sunshine?”

“Duck and weave out of any meaningful conversation we might have! You realize we’ve known each other five years, and we’ve hardly ever discussed anything- like movies, or even the fucking weather! It’s like I hardly know anything about you after all this time! Isn’t that… _wrong_? Does it have to be this way? Can’t we ever _talk_ to each other like normal--” Justin cut himself off, shaking his head. “I mean…”

“—Like _normal_ couples?” Brian intoned, the words thick and foreign on his tongue. A swell of dread rose within him; they’d arrived at the glaring obstacle driving a wedge between them, the monster that threatened to lure Justin out of reach.

“I- I didn’t mean it that way… What we have is fine; I _love_ it, I just--- Oh, fuck it; never mind.”

“Who said I minded?” Bullshit, of _course_ he minded! If only Justin didn’t react so quickly, if only he took a little more time to _understand_ instead of judge… Twisting his lips, Brian forced the complaint out of his mind. No, he didn’t blame Justin, not in light of his own prolific weaknesses. Insecurity irritated him, but he’d spent five years throwing Justin from hot to cold and back for no reason other than self-preservation. He’d screwed up birthdays, ignored thoughtful gestures and sometimes driven Justin to tears- only to sink into depression when their relationship went tits up.

No, he’d certainly no right to judge.

“Maybe… maybe we never talk because one of us says something we don’t mean, the other takes it the wrong way, and we get nowhere. Yes,” he continued, throwing his hands in the air, “that’s precisely it. So let’s not talk; let’s _never_ talk. No misunderstandings that way, see?”

Brian swallowed carefully, not liking the sound of that arrangement, somehow. “You should really say what you feel, you know; it’s better than just stewing in silence…” _And springing a fast one in revenge._ “It’s… _easier_.”

“D’you really think I didn’t catch that thinly-veiled reference to Ethan? I get it! Are you going to keep guilt-tripping me over that forever? I made a mistake: shoot me!”

Feeling it best to remain silent, or forever regret whatever he said next, Brian returned to contemplating the poor state of Justin’s apartment. For example, the crack snaking its way down the wall in front of him resembled the River Nile. _Interesting._   A canister of paint lay abandoned on a table close by, waiting for a brush- clearly Justin didn’t like the ambiance either. Speaking of which, those windows didn’t look too clean- _are those black dots dead bugs?!_ Christ, could the _House of Horrors_ movie have beaten this for style?! If only Justin wasn’t hell-bent on making his own way- otherwise he’d have swallowed his pride and accepted money to leave this hellhole…

 _Yeah. When hell freezes over._  

“How did we get from enjoying the afterglow of sex, to… this?” Justin, even after a pause, still bordered on hysterical. “ _Please_ can we change the subject?”

“You bring up the meaningful conversation rant, and then chicken out when you can’t handle Pandora’s Box.” He twisted round to smile, taking the sting off his words. “Good. I like inconsistency. Full of it myself, in fact.”

“I’ll say!”

He hesitated… then pulled Justin in for a kiss, feeling a shred of tension between them start to lift. It wouldn’t disappear, but allowed him to relax somewhat. Crushing their lips together helped him drown out his doubts and unresolved issues- something about their intimacy felt like being lost in a dream- no matter how short that dream may be.

Because he knew nightmares lived longer.

Life featured a lot in his thoughts lately- not just abstract events, but its totality. Ups and downs, triumphs and disappointments, fear, constant change and the people who revolved around him, ever judgmental but utterly clueless about the real Brian Kinney. His keen mind missed nothing. And after hours of overthinking, he could sum up every memory in one word: _“unresolved”_ \- whether from teenage depression to wondering why Justin hadn’t ditched him by now.

Wherever he looked, it seemed something remained _“unresolved”._ He didn’t know when he’d next see his son, or whether his and Michael’s friendship stood a chance anymore. He didn’t know whether he’d ever achieve his dream of making it big in New York, or pull away from the party lifestyle that had defined him. Nothing felt complete- not even major successes like Kinnetik.

Why? Was he so inept at handling his own life, or was this some giant conspiracy? He preferred to think the latter. _Everybody hides behind conspiracies, don’t they_? _It’s much easier than taking personal responsibility, facing an uncomfortable truth._

And in his case, he was his own worst enemy.

He didn’t know when he’d next see Gus because _Brian Kinney_ hadn’t even thought of visiting Toronto. He didn’t know whether he and Michael really had a future together because _Brian Kinney_ wouldn’t admit they’d never be so close again. He didn’t know whether he’d ever achieve his dream of making it big in New York, because _Brian Kinney_ quietly accepted defeat. He didn’t know whether he could pull away from partying, because _Brian Kinney_ feared age like he feared death.

He didn’t know why Justin hadn’t abandoned him, because _Brian Kinney_ didn’t dare ask…

“Brian, are you alright? You keep zoning out… I can’t be _that_ dull, can I?”

He smiled back without enthusiasm. “Nah.” He reached out and stroked Justin’s arm, “because before long, you’ll start babbling about something random all over again. Like politics. Or cats. Or Surrealist Art.”

“I remember you being particularly vocal in that conversation; I’ve never heard a more impassioned speech in defence of Salvador Dáli’s _“Melting Watches”_ in my life!”

“It was _not_ an--” Too late, he saw the bait. “Yeah, nice one, Taylor.”

Last month, Justin dragged him along to a petite museum, almost swallowed by strip clubs on either side. He’d have enjoyed it, were the visitors sexier and the strippers next door male, but Justin’s enthusiasm captured his imagination, so he didn’t complain too much. To be honest, Thomas’ State Museum could have done worse; the lighting sucked and everything was caked in dust, but the manager did provide a generous supply of bubbly. So whilst Justin wandered around, cooing at Manet, he downed a couple to the point where his vision grew blurry and his thoughts crude.

As it turned out, he ended up arguing about Dáli with an African-American couple who explained three times that they preferred religious art… until Justin dragged him away, mortified, no doubt.

Even now, the memory brought a smile to soften his frown. Good times. Not because of the alcohol, or his outburst, but because of… yeah.

The guy lying next to him.

“What are you thinking about _now_ , honey?” Justin propped himself up on his elbow.  “You remembering how hard I fucked you when we got back?”

He snorted, and turned his face away, before he betrayed any emotion. “Always so full of yourself.”

“Actually, _you_ were full of _me_!” He giggled- a sound Brian found endlessly adorable. “That _was_ a pretty wild night, I agree.”

“Until the couch broke and the weirdo upstairs gave us a piece of his mind at fucking four in the morning…”

“Yes- well, Hank’s singing would wake the dead, and it’s not cool to listen to Britney Spears in your fifties! Or at _any_ age…”

“Do _any_ of your neighbours meet your rigorous standards?”

“TJ’s not bad; he vandalizes buildings with his street art, and Ellie’s cat loves me… And I go downstairs to play chess with Nikolai on Thursdays- he always wins- _and_ he used to be a physicist for the Soviet Union…”

“Are you making this up?” Brian asked, laughing.

“Go down and ask him! He even showed me a picture of him and Nikita Khrushchev!”

“Well, I’m glad to see you fitting in so nicely…”

Justin’s smile froze. “Really? You’re not screwing with me?”

 _Ouch._ Suspicion hurt. “No. I’m… _happy_ you escaped the Pitts of Hell.”

Justin studied him a moment, before apparently deciding the compliment was genuine. His face relaxed into a gentle smile, which Brian returned. They didn’t have to talk about the bombing, the _“I love you”_ , the short-lived engagement and bittersweet goodbye. Some things were better left unsaid. True, he did his fair share of avoiding the topic, but he couldn’t honestly say he regretted letting Justin go.

People grow, yearning to stretch their wings; keeping them locked up only bred resentment. He’d never be able to bear it if Justin woke up a married man, suffocating under their wedding vows. For once, his ability to read signs of discontent had done them both good; they needed time and space away from each other after five years of tempestuous romance. Time to repair, rethink their lives and move ahead alone without feeling swamped by guilt. After a few months of emails and arguments, they finally worked out a deal; _let’s see how it goes_. No terms and conditions, this time. The future might mean visiting each other every once in a while, or Justin marrying an oil tycoon and moving to the Cayman Islands- either way, everything would right itself.

He might miss him like hell, but… that was life.

“You know…” Justin continued, breaking the silence, “I _might_ have a Kitkat somewhere… If you’re still hungry, that is. I know how you deplore carbs and sugar, except when it suits you…”

“Then pass it here, would you?”

He enjoyed watching Justin creep around like a thief in his own bedroom just to search for a fucking chocolate bar. _Better ask him to check the sell by date, in case he finds it under his bed, or something._  This so-called room was littered with drawings, half-opened bottles of paint stacked on books, brushes, clothes, pencils strewn across the floor… You name it, he’d chucked it somewhere. How anyone could be so chronically untidy made no sense; he longed to screw the caps back on every bottle in sight and implement an organizational system for everything else. Ah well, fuck it. Justin preferred throwing the pieces of his life around, and to be honest, it all felt… familiar.

Maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Justin almost tripped over his own sneakers three times, but eventually found the Kitkat in his goldfish bowl- and guess what? It didn’t go off until next year, so he could ignore the smell of tepid seaweed clinging to the packet.

“Oh- did you want some?” he offered, mouth full.

“Nope! That thing has been in the _fish_ bowl! I’m surprised my poor little goldfish aren’t dead from all the contamination!”

“You know if you ever run out of tuna, we could try pan-frying your goldfish with a little butter- they’ve grown pretty fat recently… Or how about roast kitten with new potatoes and creamed spinach?”

“Leave my pets alone!”

“Why? You live exclusively on cat food! Ever heard of rice? Potatoes? Meat loaf? We haven’t had Chinese takeaway for months!”

Justin shifted uncomfortably. “I want to go down a size…” he mumbled, pulling the blanket to his chin.

“Why?” he demanded again, “are all those carbs finally catching up with you?” _Aha! Yes! Now you can get fat like the rest of us!_ “Come to think of it, I heard Kung Pow chicken contains a fair bit of salt, which you might want to avoid--”

“Oh shut up, Brian! It isn’t that bad- just… well, a toned stomach would be… nice.” He blushed, suddenly interested in his nails.

“Well, well, well! I remember how you used to laugh whenever I went to the gym, and now here you are, all body conscious! How the mighty have _fallen_! Never fear, Sunshine; I have a regiment you could follow; starting with ten ab crunches a day whilst I blow you…”

Justin relaxed, laughing, and Brian felt so uplifted, he gave in- not because the comment was necessarily gold standard humour, but because even he couldn’t remain tense looking at that smile. Or, perhaps, from the idea that Justin only wanted a toned stomach to impress him… Yes, he’d guessed that alright from the sudden bout of shyness. _God, you’re fucking cute sometimes!_

“Rice isn’t fattening, though.”

“True- I’ll buy rice tomorrow- and tuna, and more tomatoes…”

Brian leaned over to kiss him again. He couldn’t care less what Justin bought; hell, he’d spend a week on tuna pasta if it meant long mornings like this arguing, joking… and sharing the odd intimate smile. If he dared allow himself that illusion, of course… Oh fuck! There he went, speculating again. With a suppressed sigh, he pulled Justin on top of him, deepening the kiss and threading their fingers together, never wanting to let go. God, it felt… wonderful! So… _complete._

And for once, he’d used that word instead of _“unresolved”_ \- and for once it made _sense_! Hell, everything fit together now; he’d just been avoiding the solution as usual! Why moan in silence, regretting this and that when he could let his barriers slip under Justin’s warm lips? Why not listen to their hearts beating together in confirmation of the feelings he tried so hard to hide? Why not… _live_ a little?

_I love you too, twat…_

Justin broke away, smiling, as though he’d heard- and for once, he didn’t try to hide anything.

They’d be fine- never hunky-dory- but that’s life, isn’t it? Sunshine and rainbows would have bored them to death, because no matter how miserable they made each other, they wouldn’t live any other way. Perhaps their constant spats formed part of the attraction! Certainly improved the inevitable round of makeup sex…

So he’d take each day as it came, one unpredictable hour at a time.

Because as long as he could be unpredictable with Justin, what did he have to fear?

** ~ooooOOOOoooo~ **

**Author's Note:**

> 1- Kintellect- quite proud of that invented word, actually!  
> 2- The real name of "The Melting Watches" by Salvador Dali is actually "The Persistence of Memory"- and you can actually buy watches exactly like those in the painting!  
> 3- Nikita Khrushchev (1894- 1971) was the leader of the Soviet Union during part of the Cold War.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I am usually ambivalent about writing Post 5x 13, because I thought the ending was good. This was going to be the last chapter of a story I am working on, but it didn't fit anywhere with that story, so I changed it into a one-shot. 
> 
> Concrit/feedback always welcome.


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